PUBLIC EDUCATOR AND philosopher Cornel West has spoken about the difference between optimism and hope. Optimism, as he understands it, can point to empirical evidence that suggests things will get better, while hope can exist without any of that. Even when nothing around us points to a bright future, hope defiantly holds on for a better day. Baptist minister and social ethicist Miguel A. De La Torre argues in his book Embracing Hopelessness that hope is often used as a tool of oppression and pacification. For him, hopelessness can be an animating force for justice because a deep enough dissatisfaction with the status quo will move us to change it.
I find resonance and challenge in both of these dear teachers’ perspectives. Very little of our time suggests that things are progressing the way they should. The status quo is untenable and must be changed. Both perspectives remind us not to trust or be satisfied with the way things are. We must find motivation to build the world we need rather than accepting the one we have. For many Christians, October begins with World Communion Sunday and ends with All Hallows’ Eve and Reformation Day. We celebrate our eucharistic ties to Christians around the world, recognize the great cloud of witnesses and saints who have gone before, and commemorate one of the many movements in church history that have pushed us toward something new. We live in a time when very little resembles what we knew just a few years ago. How might our texts help us build for what is coming?
October 2
From Fantasy to Faith
Lamentations 1:1-6; Psalm 137; 2 Timothy 1:1-14; Luke 17:5-10
ON WORLD COMMUNION Sunday, one can’t help but notice the world’s hurt. It’s no wonder so many superhero movies exist. We love fantasies about folks with extra-human abilities who emerge from the shadows and use their power to address the world’s pain and brokenness. Why? Because things are hard. We want the world to be better—and we want someone else to fix it.
The apostles thought if they just had more faith, they’d be more effective (Luke 17:5). Jesus draws from the power dynamics of slave and master to show them they already have enough of what they need. Masters bark orders at slaves because they can. They know their power and don’t have to negotiate for more of it. While I wish Jesus had interrogated the institution of slavery, his point was this: If you apostles have such power (and you do, because I have given it to you), then you don’t need permission to use it.
Rabbi Rami Shapiro translates the ethical wisdom of the Jewish sages this way: “Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.” We don’t need to be extraordinarily gifted, just extraordinarily determined.
October 9
Living Our Love Forward
Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7; Psalm 66:1-12; 2 Timothy 2:8-15; Luke 17:11-19
I IMAGINE AN exiled Judah found this week’s portion of Jeremiah’s message from God hard to accept. An exiled people who yearned to return home probably don’t want to hear “seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile” (Jeremiah 29:7). They likely wouldn’t want to be told to settle into their circumstances and make long-term plans for where they are. But if return is far off, why postpone any semblance of wholeness until then? Why not claim something for today and build for the future?
In her book The Next American Revolution: Sustainable Activism for the Twenty-First Century, the late Grace Lee Boggs wrote, “Love isn’t about what we did yesterday; it’s about what we do today and tomorrow and the day after.” The kind of faith we are being called to requires us to look ahead to the world we want and begin creating it today. Paul’s second letter to Timothy drips with this focus on the future, even as he acknowledges how harrowing his current reality is as a prisoner in a Roman jail cell. Paul wants Timothy to endure, to keep going, so that he may reign with Christ. And he wants Timothy to teach the whole community to do the same and to focus on that vision, rather than getting tripped up on the contentions of the present.
The much-belated efforts of our elected officials to address gun violence fall far short of where we need to be. But we can still build from where we are—and that is what we must do. In every age, we are creating our tomorrows with the wholeness we claim for ourselves today.
October 16
Relentless Knocking for Justice
Jeremiah 31:27-34; Psalm 119:97-104; 2 Timothy 3:14 - 4:5; Luke 18:1-8
JEREMIAH 31 IS part of a section of the prophet’s oracles called the “book of consolation” (chapters 30 to 33). We enter this reading at the proclamation of a new covenant (“The days are coming,” declares the Lord in verse 27) that the Lord would establish with the house of Israel. The Lord would write the law not on tablets or on scrolls, but on hearts. The people would be intimately and fundamentally connected with God in a way their ancestors had never been. There would be no generational punishments—if you erred, it was on you, not your parents, because you had been taught better. You would be too close to God to have any excuses and so close that despair would have no room to flourish.
To teach his disciples about prayer, Jesus uses the parable in Luke 18 of a widow who pestered a judge into giving her justice. How hopeless a situation this must have been. Of all people who should have a sense of justice, it should be a judge. Yet, the judge relents not because of a fear of God, a regard of people, or a sense of justice but because this widow was bothering him. She was troubling his waters and disturbing his peace. In this parable, Jesus contrasts the unjust judge with God, the righteous judge. But we also learn something about evil, which relents in the face of persistent righteousness.
October 23
Asking for Mercy
Joel 2:23-32; Psalm 65; 2 Timothy 4:6-8,16-18; Luke 18:9-14
PEOPLE LIKE TO justify themselves by their abilities and accomplishments. These things are measurable, and we don’t mind measuring them. These measurements make us feel good and are often how we determine value in a person. They are not, however, how God measures value or how God justifies.
By contrast, it’s much harder to measure one’s own iniquity or shortcomings. To do so requires a kind of uncomfortable introspection or examination of conscience that we usually only do when we’re forced to. Confession requires telling a difficult truth, putting us squarely at odds with the ways we try to justify ourselves. It’s not natural! And that’s precisely the point.
Jesus offers a very simple parable. Two people go to the temple to pray, one a devout religious leader and strict observer of the law and the other a known sinner. This particular religious leader is extraordinarily arrogant in his prayer, giving thanks that he’s not like sinners, including the one in close proximity. The sinner simply asks for mercy—he knows he’s fallen short of the standard and there is no denying or talking his way out of it. Jesus tells us that the admitted sinner is the one who goes down justified before God.
Confession is not nice news, but it is good news. Even though it is uncomfortable and seems to affront our notions of what it means to be good, confession is the very thing that endears us to God and justifies us before God.
October 30
Living Salvation Now
Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4; Psalm 119:137-144; 2 Thessalonians 1:1-4, 11-12; Luke 19:1-10
OUR GENERATION IS not the first to raise voices in lament to God, asking, “How long, O Lord?” We have all cried the prophet Habakkuk’s cry, as at times it seems God is silent and indifferent toward suffering and unrighteousness. Yet, God’s instructions to Habakkuk assure him that, though salvation might be delayed, it is not denied. The righteous shall live by faith.
Faith means not only belief but persistence in the face of unrighteousness. We often lift Zacchaeus, the “chief tax collector” (Luke 19:2), as an example of that kind of dogged faithfulness. Willingness to climb a tree is certainly a marker of determination! But there’s a contrast we should probably pay attention to in this story. Jesus’ fellowship with Zacchaeus wasn’t received well by onlookers. This is understandable because Zacchaeus had exploited so many. One wonders if, by sharing a meal with him, Jesus was cosigning his actions. On the contrary, Zacchaeus had come to repentance by being in Jesus’ presence. Before then, how many of his victims had completely written him off? How many had decided he was beyond redemption? And if he was, did that not also mean their oppression would never end? How often do we stop pursuing righteousness because injustice has become so commonplace we stop believing it will ever change?
Repeated trauma can make us cynical and doubtful change will come. Yet we must find encouragement from somewhere to keep fighting for salvation—and redemption—for each of us and for all of us.
T. Denise Anderson is acting director of Racial Equity and Women's Intercultural Ministries at the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) and lives in Maryland.
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